At first the idea of the hat might have been a cover-up,a need to move through the world without being seen.

But down deep, I know that wanting led to itand not the other way around.The hat became a strange kind of mask, like some feathered piece, ashaman’s tool,a frontispiece for a new beginning.It held me in place, a marker, a divot for the spirit.The idea of it wilder, greater than the actual hat could ever be.